Fight or Flight
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Rogue One Universe. Just a series of drabbles centered around our favorite surly captain and his wiry pilot. Humor, fluff, hurt/comfort, and everything else I can think up. Will contain m/m relationships and subject matter.
1. Exceeding Expectations

**Hello friends! Hope all is well! I've been playing with a bunch of ideas and head canons lately and decided to just combine all the drabbles into one big story. I'm not sure how many chapters there will be (I'm still at the mercy of work and grad school) but I'll try to update as often as I can! Feel free to let me know if you have any ideas you'd like to see written and I'll try to add them in for you!**

 **There's not much dialogue in this chapter, it's mostly just set up. Maren is a character of my own design and I love her very much but this is probably the only chapter she will appear in for pretty obvious reasons. Hope you guys like it!**

 **A/N: I own nothing =/**

 **Summary: Cassian expects a lot of things but Bodhi is not one of them**

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 _Love is pain._ Those three words burrow into his mind and stick to him like a barb. He doesn't remember who said them or why or what the context had been, all he knows is that it's true. Love is overwhelming and terrifying and devastating. It leaves craters of self-doubt and hesitation and insecurities scattered over every surface. Love is the most paralyzing, blinding force in the entire galaxy. That's why Cassian swears it off.

He had been in love once, long enough to know that he would never be the same afterward. Her name was Maren and she had broken him apart before either of them realized it. They met in the Outer Rim Territories, two children tossed into the middle of a war zone. Their fathers helped lead an insurrection on the ground while the children offered cover from above. Cassian threw bottles and Maren threw bricks; they became a team through proximity and circumstance.

Maren had been a constant, fixed object in his life from the time he was six years old and he couldn't remember a point in his life before he met her. Maren had been the stars in the sky and the air he breathed; she had been his everything.

He catches himself thinking about her from time to time, his mind drifting when he's not aware of it. It's been many long, painful years but sometimes he can remember the sound of her voice, the warm glitter of her golden eyes. He thinks about the way she used to laugh and how her dark amber skin seemed to glow in the late afternoon sunlight. He doesn't know how it happened and he couldn't have stopped it if he tried; loving her was as easy as breathing and it happened from one breath to the next.

They had grown up fighting the Empire, tooth and nail and blood, and had sometimes talked about running away together, taking to the stars and never looking back. It was a foolish, childish dream that both of them knew would never happen but it didn't stop them from staying up all night talking about the future and the life they would have together. That's the memory that stands out the most, falling asleep with Maren in his arms, the stars painting silvery constellations across her bare shoulders.

Their camp was overrun two days later, Imperial forces sweeping through the streets like a riptide in search of rebel fighters. He and Maren had been separated that morning, training and drills and duties pulling them in different directions. Cassian remembers explosions and fire, fighting his way through the camp to get to her, pushing through fleeing crowds and burning streets.

Their tent was in flames by the time he got there, Maren's father dead in the street. There was no sign of Maren and he felt a brief flicker of hope that she had somehow gotten away. It was dashed moments later when he found her behind the tent, crumpled and already cold. Maren died with a weapon in her hand and blood in her teeth; she died a Rebel and Cassian took up where she fell without a second thought. The Empire had taken her from him, destroyed the only thing that had been good in his life, and he vowed in that moment that he wouldn't rest until he saw them fall.

 _Love is pain_. He had never known true pain until Maren died. He had been too young to remember the loss of his father, too young to fully accept and grieve his passing. He was there and then he was gone and Cassian didn't really understand it but he moved on. Maren's death struck him to the core, cut his legs out from under him and left him spiraling and desolate. He became jaded and bitter, cold to the world around him. He had a singular purpose now and that was destroying the Empire at all costs.

He fought for years, gathering information and rising through the ranks in the Alliance. Word came of a defector, an Imperial pilot who had betrayed the Empire and possessed important information that could lead to their destruction. Cassian took this report with hesitant optimism; he'd been burned by faulty information before and he wasn't anxious to do it again. If it was true it might finally provide them with the resources necessary to destroy the Empire once and for all. If it wasn't then they'd wasted their time and energy for nothing.

Jyn Erso is a surprise. He clashes with her almost immediately because she's way too much like him. She's stubborn and headstrong, furious with the Empire but too numb and jaded to fight back. She needs a reason to fight instead of running and discovering a possible message from her father is exactly the incentive she needs. She also needs a team and Cassian finds himself by her side as they travel to Jedha. It's an odd feeling, having a partner again, and it tugs at something deep and painful in his chest. He tries to ignore it and focuses on finding the pilot instead.

The hollow feeling only grows when they reach the desert planet. The streets are dusty and dry, lined with Imperial soldiers and messengers. It reminds him of the Outer Rim and the camp that went up in flames. It reminds him of Maren.

They find their defector in a dirt-walled cell, mumbling and dazed and clearly out of his mind. For a moment Cassian thinks this has been a waste, that their one shot at getting viable information to use against the Empire has been dashed. But then the pilot, Bodhi, looks at him, wide, glassy brown eyes meeting his, and Cassian feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. The reaction takes him by surprise and it leaves him feeling like he's just latched onto a live wire.

He didn't have time to focus on it or even acknowledge then, not when they were fleeing Jedha or bouncing across the galaxy in search of the killswitch plans for the Death Star. Bodhi came with them, hesitant and doubtful and far too fragile for the dangerous fight they found themselves in. He had been with the Empire, yes, but he was not an Imperial; Cassian recognized that within seconds of meeting him. Bodhi wanted to help, fight back, prove himself to the Rebellion. Cassian wanted to keep him as far away from the Empire as possible.

Cassian couldn't explain it, didn't even have an acceptable word for it, but the wiry pilot stirred something in him that he hadn't felt in years. Something he hadn't felt since Maren died.

It was different this time though, more sudden and jarring. His love for Maren grew over a period of years, respect and friendship turning into love and devotion. With Bodhi it was a lightning strike, bright and brilliant and devastating. His love for Maren was accentuated by her bravery and fearlessness, her bright laugh and her clever eyes. Bodhi is all small smiles and self-conscious fidgeting and no matter how hard he tries, Cassian feels himself being tugged down further with every minute.

All of that nearly comes screeching to a halt with Scarif. There are too many close calls, too many unknown variables, and too many times when Cassian accepts that the sandy beaches of Scarif will be his grave. He keeps Jyn close but he loses contact with Bodhi and the radio silence feels like a punch in the gut. The beaches burn just like his camp did and he's certain Bodhi has met a similar fate.

Against all odds they somehow manage to survive. He doesn't know how and he doesn't question it; they flee Scarif just seconds before the planet is destroyed. Bodhi is at the controls, burned and bruised and bleeding, but he's alive and Cassian feels like he's able to breathe again.

It's not until a few weeks later that he's able to actually sit down and really concentrate on the strange, foreign emotions he swore he'd never feel again. The adrenaline has finally worn off after countless near death experiences and he doesn't spend every waking moment on edge and jumpy; the only thing to face now is himself.

He's angry at first, not at Bodhi but at himself. This shouldn't be happening; he vowed to never let himself fall like this again. But falling is about the only thing he can do and he has no way to stop it once it's begun.

Jyn is the one who forces him to accept it. She understands without him telling her and the look she gives him is one of affectionate annoyance. They've grown closer since Scarif (nearly being vaporized on a beach tends to have that effect) and Cassian loves her like a sister. And, like any good sister, Jyn is not about to let him waste his chance with their doe-eyed pilot when it's so obvious there's mutual pining there.

Cassian avoids it for as long as he can until avoidance is no longer an option. He's stubborn but he has nothing on Jyn; arguing with her was about as effective as arguing with a rock. She nudges him in the right direction and blocks the door with her hands on her hips to make sure he doesn't back out. There aren't many things Cassian Andor has ever backed down from in his life but defying Jyn Erso is one of them.

He finds Bodhi sitting in one of the hangars, back pressed against the wall and long legs stretched out in front of him. The pilot's eyes are fixed on a ship being repaired a few stations away, mindlessly flipping a small piece of scrap metal back and forth between his fingers. It takes Cassian a second to realize it's a fragment of the ship they'd taken to Scarif.

Bodhi smiles when he approaches, brown eyes warm and soft as sea foam. His hair is much shorter now, patchy and cut down to the scalp in some places. His burns had healed easily but it would take a while for his hair to grow properly. Bodhi didn't seem to mind it though; his goggles covered up most of the patches anyway.

Cassian joins him on the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with the pilot and suddenly feeling more self-conscious than he ever remembers feeling in his life. They don't speak for a while after he sits down, comfortable silence settling between them in the repair hangar. For once it's Cassian's turn to fidget and he opens his mouth three times before a single word comes out.

When they do come, however, the words pour out of him like a sieve, unstoppable once he's begun. He feels like he's rambling, running sentences together and making up words along the way. He needs to get the words out and in the open though because he thinks if he keeps them in any longer he might be consumed by them. He talks for five solid minutes and in that time he doesn't remember ever taking a breath. He's light headed and anxious by the time he finishes speaking and he's never felt more vulnerable than he does in that moment.

Bodhi just smiles at him then, carefully linking their fingers together and brushing his lips along the backs of Cassian's knuckles. It's such a soft, tender gesture that the air catches in the back of Cassian's throat and, as is so often the case when Bodhi is involved, the captain can't breathe. They sit in the hangar, hand-in-hand, and talk about the future.

Cassian expected to feel a lot of things when the Death Star was destroyed and the Empire was defeated. He expected to feel pride and triumph and excitement combined with guilt and sorrow for all those who had fallen along the way. He expected to feel a resurgence of remorse and grief for Maren, to mourn for her all over again when he realized that she never got to see the final outcome of their lifelong battle. He expected a lot of things but never expected to fall in love again. He never expected Bodhi Rook.

 _Love is pain_ , his brain supplies helpfully and oh, he was miserable.

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 **Thanks for reading guys! :D**


	2. Love and Other Reactions

**Hello friends! Hope you're all having a good new year so far! Okay, so a little background on the first part of this story: it was inspired by a book I read for a sociology class called Death Without Weeping. Basically it's about the high infant mortality rate in Brazil and how it affects maternal relationships with children. From an etic perspective the mothers seem callous and cruel when in reality it's a coping mechanism against the near certainty of child death. That's kind of how I imagined Bodhi's relationship with his mother; loving but withdrawn and impersonal thanks to the Empire and the near constant threat of death/injury/subjugation. Anyway, I'm done rambling!**

 **Hope you all enjoy it! :D**

 **Summary: Bodhi reacts to Cassian's confessions of love in a variety of different ways.**

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"I love you," he says and Bodhi laughs.

The words catch him by surprise and leave him a little confused. He knows what they mean and what they represent, but it sounds strange and unfamiliar to him, a phrase he's only heard in passing. He thinks he's heard it once before but he's not sure; his mother might have told him that as a child. He knew she cared for him, was as affectionate with him as she could be, but he doubts she ever told him she loved him. She couldn't.

Jedha was a harsh, unforgiving world, one that cut lives brutally short rather than letting them flesh out. Between ice and desert and sand, childhood mortality was extraordinarily high. Surviving past childhood was remarkable enough but surviving to adulthood was phenomenal. His mother never told him she loved him because the chance of losing him had always been too great. If she never got attached, never allowed herself to love him, she wouldn't be broken and desolate when she lost him.

She loved him in her own way without ever saying it, relying on gestures instead of words. She loved him in the way she ran her fingers through his hair and cupped his face in her warm, calloused hands. She loved him in the way she pressed her forehead to his and whispered a prayer against the side of his neck the day Imperial guards appeared in their town. She loved him in the way she let him go, knowing he stood a better chance of survival if he was free and untethered, if she urged him to leave instead of begging him to stay. His mother loved him, he knew that, but she never, ever told him.

Love was an obscure, alien concept in the Empire. There were no friendships, no closeness, no camaraderie; relationships were sterile and impersonal, stripped of anything resembling emotion. Bodhi learned quickly that self-reliance and independence were the only acceptable options when it came to working with the Empire; help was not offered or given and failure was met with harsh punishment. Love did not exist in the Empire and so Bodhi forgot about it.

When Cassian tells him he loves him, the words soft and tentative and almost unsure, Bodhi laughs before he can stop himself. He realizes his mistake instantly, the confused, hurt expression fleeting across Cassian's face, and immediately tries to amend. He takes the captain's hand and presses his lips to his palm, gentle and feather-light. An apology.

No one has ever told him they loved him and so Bodhi doesn't know how to react. The pain in Cassian's eyes at this admission is almost worse than the truth itself and he shakes his head briefly like he doesn't understand.

He takes Bodhi's hands and traces the long lines of his fingers slowly. His expression is unreadable and strange and for a moment Bodhi wonders if he's angry with him. But then Cassian is clasping the pilot's hands in his own, tight and secure, and he says he loves him again.

Cassian tells him he loves him and Bodhi has never heard those words before but they sound nice when Cassian says them and he smiles.

 **OOOOO**

"I love you," he says and Bodhi is angry.

Cassian is a fool, stubborn and headstrong, and he's much too good for someone like Bodhi. He's brave and inspiring and fearless, not weak and unsure like an Imperial defector, and it feels like a slap in the face everytime he says it because Cassian deserves so much more.

He knows what the other rebels say about him, the looks and judgement and accusation. He's heard it all and he accepts it because it's true but he hates that it's beginning to reflect on Cassian. Bodhi can take the criticism, it's nothing new and certainly nothing he hasn't heard before, but it should never involve Cassian.

Bodhi has known from the time he was ten years old that he was expendable, fodder for the Empire and nothing more than a means to an end. There were thousands like him, perfect, polished soldiers who never questioned orders and did what they were told without hesitation. There was no room for doubt or insecurity or weakness. Bodhi could be replaced and they made sure he knew it.

He found little welcoming when he joined the Rebellion, his appearance met with the suspicion and wariness of bedraggled fighters looking for another trap. They accepted him for the same reasons the Empire had: he was a means to an end. He had information that they needed which made him valuable for the time being. They didn't trust him though and he didn't blame them; he barely trusts himself.

But Cassian is brave and loyal, the very face of the Alliance's success. He deserves medals and accolades, not the whispered questions and queries about his relationship with an ex-Imperial pilot. Bodhi sees the way they look at him, the way they point and nod, speaking in quietly judgemental voices. He sees the way Cassian's reputation is being questioned because of him and he hates it.

Cassian is not bothered by what others say or what they think, their opinions mean nothing to him. Cassian tells him he loves him and Bodhi shoves him away in desperation.

He's angry and hurt and miserable, wishing Cassian would just give up in his foolish, misguided attempts at trying to make Bodhi out to be some kind of hero to the Rebellion. He's not a hero or an idol; he's nothing. Bodhi is poison and decay and rot and he's going to destroy everything Cassian has fought so hard to build. He screams this at him, pushes him away as a surge of hot, bitter tears streak down his face and splatter to the ground below.

The captain grabs him at some point, hugging him to his chest in a tight, unforgiving embrace. He holds him, breathes into his hair, and whispers _I love you, I love you, I love you_ as Bodhi sobs himself sick in his arms.

Cassian tells him he loves him and Bodhi sobs and insists there's nothing to love.

 **OOOOO**

"I love you," he says and Bodhi is too weak to speak.

The room is uncomfortably bright and smells like stripped metal and ozone. Everything around him is white: white walls, white floor, white ceiling. It's all shockingly, blindingly white except for the areas that are splattered with red.

There's red everywhere, bright speckles and dark pools, splatters and drips and blotches. It stains his clothes and his skin, dried in some places and shiny in others. It's in his hair and his mouth and his teeth, copper and rust and iron. He spits a mouthful and it splatters across the bright white floor in a sickening pattern.

He doesn't know how long he's been here, how long he's been missing; there was no concept of time in this white, white room. He guesses it's been close to three days since he was taken, three days of torture and pain and featureless white walls. He knew he was going to die here, defectors and traitors to the Empire are always doomed to an awful, gruesome fate, but he didn't know how long they planned to torture him for information before they deemed him useless and spent.

They broken his fingers first; a pilot is useless without his fingers. The hands came next followed by the wrists. They kept him conscious and rewarded each act of defiance with another broken bone. He had no information for them, nothing he would ever give up, and they made sure he suffered for it.

When the door slides open and voices fill the room, Bodhi recognizes them and nearly sobs. What comes out instead is a ragged sort of cough and he spits blood on the polished white floor once more.

Cassian is there and suddenly the pain doesn't seem so bad. His hands are on his face, his arms, his chest, and he's saying his name over and over. Bodhi smiles with bloody teeth and lets himself lean into his captain's touch.

He slumps suddenly, no longer strapped to the chair, and finds himself caught and cradled in large, strong arms. He's confused and disoriented, blinking brokenly at the white ceiling, and he's clutched protectively against a warm, solid chest.

"Rest, little brother," he hears from above and voice sounds remarkably different now that it usually does. No longer growled and booming but gentle and comforting.

A cool, gentle press of fingers passes over his forehead and he hears what sounds like a Jedi prayer being mumbled endlessly above him. It's soothing and soft and he feels himself drifting with the words.

When he opens his eyes again the room is much darker. He's in a bed instead of a chair and the taste of blood no longer fills his mouth. Cassian is sitting beside him, dark eyes fixed on his face, and he looks utterly exhausted. He visibly sags when Bodhi opens his eyes and gingerly wraps him in his arms, holding him close and stroking his hair.

Bodhi's hands are wrapped, the bones mostly healed but still too fragile and thin to keep unbandaged. They're bruised and tender, a painful throb accompanying each heartbeat, and he closes his eyes against the pain. Cassian holds his healing hands gently in both of his own and presses soft, tender kisses to each fingertip.

He tells him he loves him and Bodhi falls asleep holding his hand.

 **OOOOO**

"I love you," he says and Bodhi trembles beneath him.

Cassian's hands are warm and strong, mapping the planes of his chest and curves of his shoulders with each word. He's memorizing Bodhi's features, breathing his name along his collarbone and tracing the lines of his muscles with his lips. They're tangled in each other, arms and legs and feet, and the warm press of Cassian's skin against his own is enough to make Bodhi shiver.

The lights are dim, just enough for them to see, and it makes the experience that much more intense. Bodhi has never had someone take him apart like this before, one piece at a time until there's nothing left. Cassian's hands are everywhere and it's leaving him breathless and wild.

Cassian kisses him again, warm and grounding, and the pilot arches into him. The captain smells like leather and grass and metal and Bodhi breathes him in like he's never had a breath of air until now. It'd intoxicating and overwhelming and he can't get enough.

Long fingers smooth themselves over his chest, bumping over his ribs like tiny speed bumps. Bodhi has a scattering of freckles across his chest and shoulders, a souvenir from the bright, blinding sun of Jedha, and Cassian finds every single one of them with his tongue.

The captain shifts on top of him, matching his body with Bodhi's like they were made to fit like this. The pilot's hands find his shoulders, splaying his fingers across his back and clinging to him like a drowning man. Cassian holds him tight, possessing anything he can and Bodhi lets him have it all.

He breathes Cassian's name and bites his lip, short fingernails digging into warm, brown skin. His breath hitches in his throat when the captain's long fingers dip along his hips, tracing bones and joints and muscle. Cassian kisses him again deeply and Bodhi groans, arching into him further.

Hours feel like seconds and seconds feel like days and time loses all meaning around. Bodhi is only aware of Cassian's hands, his lips, his voice, and he wonders how he ever lived without it. It's a crime, to be sure, and he's happy to spend the rest of his life atoning.

Cassian tell him he loves him and Bodhi clings to him tightly.

 **OOOOO**

"I love you," he says and Bodhi believes him.

It's been a year since the Empire fell and the threat to the galaxy was extinguished. A year since Jedha and Galen and Scarif. A year since they nearly made the ultimate sacrifice to give the Rebellion a chance at success.

The Alliance is stronger now, stronger than it's ever been before and there's a ceremony planned for later that evening to commemorate the one year anniversary of Scarif.

The Rogue One crew has a place of honor in the ceremony and none of them really want to go but they do because it's a way to keep the spirit of the Rebellion high. There are new fighters and recruits coming in every day, volunteers to fight a war that's already been won. There's no room for slacking or stagnation, however; the Alliance must remain vigilant and alert at all times in order to protect the free worlds of the galaxy. This is part of the reason they're encouraged to attend, to keep the rebel moral elevated.

Chirrut and Baze are already there by the time they arrive, tucked away in a corner and speaking quietly to each other. Chirrut looks at ease in the meeting hall, pale eyes leveled at the growing crowd in front of them. Baze is standing just behind him, watching the crowd as well. He looks bored and restless like this entire night will be a waste if he doesn't get to shoot at something.

Jyn sits a few feet away, trapped in a conversation with four girls who look like they're no older than about eight. Daughters of other fighters, no doubt; the rebel base has become their new home and they've adapted well. They've found an unwitting mentor in Jyn and they're fascinated by her. They listen, eyes wide and attentive, as Jyn tells them the proper way to distract an Imperial guard and break his arm to steal his weapon. The girls are completely enraptured and there's little doubt that they're going to be attempting distraction techniques later tonight after the ceremony.

K-2 tuts quietly behind her, watching the children with blank, silver eyes. One of the girls reaches out like she's trying to figure out on her own how to disarm him and the droid steps just out of her reach. She pouts a little, he sighs, and K-2 is "captured and at the mercy" of four little girls five seconds later. He gripes but it's half-hearted.

Cassian leads Bodhi to the other side of the table, finding a chair close to Jyn and Chirrut. He keeps his fingers linked with the pilot's, his grip steady and grounding. To be honest, Bodhi had been dreading this ceremony. He still has nightmares about Scarif, dreams where they don't make it out, the plans aren't retrieved in time, the planet disintegrates all around them and their efforts were for nothing. The ceremony was a reminder of how close they had been to losing everything and it was only sheer chance and luck that they succeeded at all.

He would have been completely fine spending the night making arbitrary repairs to their ship if Cassian hadn't come and coaxed him out. He didn't want to go but he still believed in the Rebellion and everything it stood for and if going meant he could somehow keep up morale then fine. It doesn't change the fact that he's gripping Cassian's hand hard enough to make the captain wince when they walk in the room.

The ceremony begins a few moments after they enter, admirals and generals and Alliance leaders speaking before the accumulated crowd. They talk about the destruction of Jedha and Scarif, the souls who were lost in the fight against the Empire. They talk about victory and triumph and salvation and how the galaxy was freed from tyranny thanks to the brave rebel fighters seated at the front of the room. It's grandiose and uncomfortable and no one is happier for it to be over than the Rogue One crew.

The celebration will last well into the night but Cassian spirits Bodhi away before they can get caught up in the crowd. He noticed Baze doing the same thing to Chirrut and Jyn a few seconds after the ceremony ended and takes a page out of his book. For being the guests of honor, the Rogue One crew is incredibly good at vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Cassian takes him back to the ship and they disappear inside, the door closing and locking behind them. They're both more comfortable here, surrounded by metal walls and flight controls, and it makes the chaos of the day seem bearable. It's been a full year and they're still here.

When Bodhi tugs him into the sleeper cab toward the back of the ship, Cassian follows without complaint. They collapse on the bed and curl into each other, hands tangled in fabric and clinging to clothing. Cassian stretches out flat and Bodhi curls against his chest, the captain's arm curling around his waist and holding him close.

They don't talk about Scarif but they're both thinking about it, how close it had been, how dangerous. Scarif had been a victory, yes, but it had also been a killing field. They survived where many others did not and that knowledge weighs heavily in moments like this.

Cassian pulls him close, lips brushing along his hairline and pressing gentle kisses to his temple. For all the anxiety and heartache Scarif had brought them, it brought him this too and he's quietly thankful. His thumb traces small, circular patterns into the curve of Bodhi's shoulder blade and he listens to him breathe.

"I love you," he tells him quietly, the words gentle and soft as an evening breeze.

Bodhi smiles and presses a kiss to the solid line of his jaw. "I love you, too."

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 **Thanks for reading guys! :D**


	3. Patients and Patience

**Hello friends! Hope you're doing well! I just have this idea that Cassian would be a really terrible patient and would be shockingly petulant about the whole thing. That's where this idea came from! Hope you all enjoy it! :D**

 **Summary: Cassian is a terrible patient**

* * *

"You're not supposed to be out of bed," K-2 intones flatly, his silvery eyes settling on the bruised and bandaged rebel captain who is currently trying to sneak out of the bedroom without getting caught. Said captain curses quietly and shoots a mild glare at the droid.

"K," Cassian hiss-whispers, motioning with his unbandaged hand for the droid to be quiet. "Keep it down, will you?"

"You'll aggravate your injuries," the droid continues, undeterred from his earlier discourse. "Your discharge summary clearly states that strict bedrest is required for the next twenty-four hours. It's been seven."

"K, I'm fine," Cassian insists, making a pointed effort to hide the wince that accompanies his words. Talking hurt but then so did everything. The mission earlier had not gone as planned and he had found himself ambushed and outnumbered ten-to-one before the rest of the team could reach him. By the time they got him back on the ship, Cassian had a fair number of broken bones, cuts, bruises, and severely wounded pride. None of the injuries were life threatening (okay, not _super_ life threatening) but they would take a few days to heal completely and until that time he was ordered to rest and take it easy until he recovered fully.

The problem with that is that Cassian doesn't know how to rest and take it easy. He's antsy and fidgety and the very idea of being bed bound for the next seventeen hours makes him feel like there are bugs crawling on him. He's never been good with downtime and stagnation and now that it's being forced on him, he'd rather jump out of a moving ship.

"I just needed to get up and stretch my legs for a minute," he explains, wincing as one leg throbs in protest. The twisted knee and fractured tibia did not appreciate the idea of him getting up and stretching his legs.

"You should be resting," the droid persists, unaffected by the captain's explanations. "Your injuries will take twice as long to heal if you overexert yourself."

"I'm going crazy stuck in that room," Cassian counters, gesturing back toward the bedroom with one arm. It tugs at the healing muscles in his shoulders and he grits his teeth. "My recovery won't matter if I've gone completely mad by the time I'm healed."

The droid looks at him, noticeably unimpressed by the emotional outburst. "You're being overdramatic," he says simply, voice flat and monotonous.

"I'm being appropriately dramatic," Cassian counters a bit petulantly, irritated beyond measure with the droid and this apartment and the situation he's found himself in. He's injured, yes, and he should be resting, yes, but boredom is a cruel, unforgiving mistress and he's been stuck in her clutched for hours now.

"Rest is critical for your recovery," K-2 says again, completely unmoved by his captain's plight. "And if you will not listen to me then I will be forced to call for assistance."

Cassian's eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head. It hurts but he doesn't care. "No. K, don't you dare."

K-2 ignores him and turns his attention down the hall toward the main living area.

"K, I will disown you, I swear!" Cassian hisses in warning.

The droid pauses and gives him The Look, an expression that indicates the droid is completely fed up with this conversation and his captain's stubbornness. "You have never had ownership of me, Cassian," he says flatly before turning his attention back down the hall. "Bodhi."

While Cassian balks at the utter treason and disloyalty of droids, there's a soft shuffle from the front of the apartment and Bodhi appears around the corner. He sees K-2 first and then Cassian and sighs softly with all the gentle, affectionate annoyance of someone who's been putting up with this for _hours._

"Cassian, what are you doing?" he asks quietly as he walks down the hall to meet him. "You should be in bed."

Cassian flips a rather rude, single finger gesture toward K, which the droid willfully ignores, and looks back at the pilot. "I'm fine, honestly," he tells him, which is a lie, but it's worth a shot. "It's just a few bumps and bruises."

"And a few broken bones," Bodhi adds with a much milder version of The Look.

"That are healing," Cassian insists even as his leg throbs in objection.

"And some internal bleeding."

" _Minor_ internal bleeding that was patched up upon arrival in the medical unit."

"Cassian," Bodhi says, stressing his name just a little as he speaks. "I know you like to think you're invincible and that bodily trauma is just a minor inconvenience but you have to take this seriously. Moving around too much before you're fully healed could make your injuries worse and it could even cause new injuries. And you and I both know you won't be cleared for another mission if you exacerbate your injuries because you're too stubborn to rest."

Cassian grumbles and sighs because Bodhi is right. It had taken a lot of persuasion to convince the medics that he was well enough to recover at home; if he made his injuries worse or extended the healing time because he was too stubborn to take literally everyone's advice then he would have no one to blame but himself.

"I hate this," he grumbles and he hates how petulant it sounds but that's the situation he's found himself in.

"I know you do, love," Bodhi tells him gently, taking his less injured hand and lacing their fingers together. He's silent for a moment, pensive, and he presses a light kiss to the inside of Cassian's wrist. "If you won't do it for yourself, will you do it for me? I hate seeing you in pain."

Dammit. That's all it takes. Cassian visibly deflates because he can never deny Bodhi _anything_ and nods. "You know I'd do anything for you," he tells the pilot quietly, an admission that earns him a warm, tender smile that could melt all the ice on Hoth.

Bodhi squeezes his hand gently and nods back toward their bedroom. "Go get comfortable and I'll make us some tea. I still have some reports to finish but I'll keep you company if that will help."

Cassian mumbles some kind of agreement and allows Bodhi to carefully lead him down the hall toward their room. He feels like he's memorized every single detail of this room in the past few hours and the only reason he agrees to go back in there is because Bodhi is coming. If he had to be confined to that room again with nothing but his thoughts he might consider making a break for it.

Bodhi leaves him in the room with a kiss and the promise of return and Cassian has nothing better to do than settle on the bed and try to find a comfortable position. Between his healing injuries and the antsiness of boredom, it's nearly impossible to find a position that doesn't make him want to curse. He finally settles somewhat on his back, taking the pressure off his injured ribs and healing bruises.

Bodhi appears a few minutes later, a date pad tucked under one arm and two steaming mugs of herbal tea in his hands. He walks around the bed carefully, setting the tablet on the edge of the mattress and passing Cassian one of the mugs.

"My own blend," he tells him as he settles onto the mattress beside him. "It should help with the pain."

The captain leans over and presses a kiss to his temple. "I feel better already," he says, earning another world-melting smile from his pilot.

He looks at the mug in his hand, inhaling the warm, thick steam swirling above the rim. It smells green and malty, bright lemongrass and sun-kissed barley. It tastes about the same and it warms every inch of him from the inside out. He drinks the tea, sinks against Bodhi's shoulder, and breathes deeply as the other man swirls light, nonsensical patterns across his shoulders with his fingertips.

Bodhi is nearly finished with his last report when he feels a dull thump against his shoulder. He glances over and sees Cassian sound asleep against him, breathing deep and even. He smiles and sets the pad down, shifting the other man down carefully and gently onto the mattress and covering him with the blanket. Cassian never even twitches, already deeply asleep and oblivious to the world. Bodhi smiles again and turns back to his reports, keeping one hand resting against his shoulder, occasionally combing his fingers through his hair and stroking the back of his neck.

"You got him to sleep," K-2's voice cuts through the silence and Bodhi looks up to see him standing in the doorway. The droid's attention is drawn to the sleeping man in the bed and if Bodhi didn't know any better, he might say the droid sounded equal parts stunned and maybe a little envious.

The pilot smirks and looks back down at the tablet in his hand. "I drugged his tea," he says simply, fingers carding through Cassian's hair again. "We both know he wouldn't have stayed in bed otherwise. This just ensures he gets the rest he needs."

K-2 blinks once, twice and finally cocks his head to the side a little as if he was the first time he'd really seen Bodhi. "I'm impressed," he admits, a touch surprise in his voice. "Keep up the good work." And with that the droid turns and walks away, leaving his two humans alone in the room.

Bodhi smiles again and looks back at the tablet, fingers sliding in and out of Cassian's hair while the healing captain sleeps beside him.

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 **Thanks for reading guys! Feel free to send me some ideas if you have any! :D**


	4. Force of Nature

**Hello friends! I hope you're doing well! Okay, so unpopular opinion time: I love purple prose. I love writing similes and analogies and metaphors and describing the things I see in my head when I'm writing. I _love_ it. However, writing academic papers for graduate school more or less kills the passion to write in this way; essays are cut and dry, facts and figures only. Which is understandable and all but good God, it gets tedious sometimes. So when I do write something that's not school related I tend to go over the top with flower language as a kind of literary coping mechanism. Fluff and flowers are my jam, you guys. So what I'm trying to say is that I apologize if this chapter is ridiculously flowery and abstract and painted every different shade of purple. School is tedious and Bodhi/Cassian is my outlet ^_^**

 **I hope you like it! :D**

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Bodhi is cosmic. He's light and sound and starlight, compacted and compressed into human form. He's known facts and unanswerable questions, harmony and dichotomy and everything in between. He represents everything in the universe and Cassian is simultaneously terrified and amazing by him.

He tries to stay away at first, keep his distance from the incredible everything that Bodhi is. He avoids him, pushes him away, flees in any opposite direction because the only way to avoid getting sucked into a gravitational pull is run as far as he can and he has never encountered _any_ force of nature quite like Bodhi.

He pushes away but he finds himself pulled back in before he knows it, undercurrents and riptides jerking the ground out from under him. Bodhi is a maelstrom, strong and undeniable, and Cassian sinks before he can swim.

Cassian has always been drawn to the stars, to the galaxies and nebulae and cosmic labyrinths that stretch across the universe. He finds himself drawn to Bodhi in the same way, caught in his orbit and pulled in tight.

He tells himself to take caution, _fly lower, Icarus, your wings can't withstand the sun_. Because Bodhi is the sun and everything more. He burns brighter and hotter than anything Cassian has ever seen and he knows, hopelessly and unquestionably, that he's willing to succumb to the flames if it means getting closer to him.

What's alarming is that Bodhi has no idea the power he has, that he holds Cassian and the universe itself on the tip of his fingers. He's oblivious in the best of ways, unaware and unaffected by the sway he holds over Cassian's entire world. He loves Cassian with a quiet kind of intensity that makes Cassian's downfall that much more damning. Bodhi is composed of nothing but warm smiles and soft eyes and everything good that's ever been. He's time and space and reason, undefinable and yet perfectly defined. Cassian knows with a fatalistic kind of certainty that he's completely out of his element.

He tries as hard as he can, he gives it his best shot, but he's no match for something like this. He's never encountered anything like this before. His denial is laughable and his efforts futile. He's in love with Bodhi the way he's in love with the stars and he's never loved anything more.

He resigns himself to his fate and allows himself to get tugged down, content to memorize the curves of bone and flesh that now make up his entire world. He spends hours there, committing every square inch of Bodhi's skin to memory, learning the fabric of the universe with his fingertips and eyes. He traces the outline of his face, the solid rise and dip of his ribs, the long lines of his body. He learns by touch and he wants to learn everything.

Bodhi watches him with an amused yet loving smile, eyes dark with concentration. The color changes and flickers in the right light, shifting from sun-warmed mahogany to a deep, rich sienna. There are flecks of gold in them some days, Midas-bright and just as tempting. Other days there are shimmers of honeyed amber, flickers of copper and speckles of bronze. Cassian looks into his eyes and he sees every shade of earth and wood and precious ored metal. It's like looking into the heart of the world and having that world look back.

He kisses him deeply, drinking him in like a parched desert absorbing rainfall. He kisses Bodhi until he's dizzy and lightheaded, oxygen-starved and gasping, and he doesn't stop. Stopping feels like a crime against logic itself and he's not willing to take that chance. So he keeps kissing him and pulls him down and holds the very concept of logic in the palm of his hand.

There are nights when Cassian breathes Bodhi's name against his skin, the letters creeping out like a prayer. On those nights it feels like worship because it is and he's newly and wholly converted. He murmurs praise along Bodhi's collarbones and the constellations of freckles that dust the tops of his shoulders. His fingers trace grace and invocation along the planes of his chest and the slope of his hips, dipping and gliding like physical poetry. He vows to write haikus and sonnets with nothing but the smoothness of Bodhi's skin to guide him and he thinks he can fill up an entire library with its work.

It's never enough and it's never too much; Bodhi is more intoxicating to him than the most potent substance in the universe. He's addicted to his hands and his warmth and his smile, the way he can make a the smallest gesture seem like an elaborate and carefully organized display. He's thoughtful and careless, reckless and secure, and Cassian braces himself for the whiplash that accompanies this kind of love. He's helpless against him, strung out and craving more, ravenous for everything his sweet, shy pilot can offer.

He pulls him into his arms and holds him close, burying his face in dark hair that smells like cinnamon and trees and starlight. Bodhi shudders and breathes beneath him, voice lost and quiet when he tries to speak. His fingers dig into Cassian's back, long and thin and strong, and he clings to him tightly as the captain continues to explore his body and pay tribute.

Bodhi's voice is an element all its own and Cassian crumbles further every time he says his name. His voice rings of ancient text and newborn language, infinite and untouched. It's primordial and raw, soft and gentle as a breeze and deadly as a hurricane. His words lilt and flow like a river, babbling syllables and white-water rhetoric. At times he's quiet and tranquil, a deep, still pool reflecting the world around him. Other times he's whip-sharp and just as biting, cracking the air with his words and phrases. His voice is poetry, his words a song, and Cassian absorbs every single bit of it.

There are fleeting moments when he thinks he can resist, pull back and regain the composure he's so foolishly lost. He's a captain for Force sake, he should be stronger than this. Losing himself like this will only end in heartbreak and despair. He knows this all too well.

But then...

But then Bodhi smiles, warm and affectionate and only for him, he knows there's no going back. That smile is what gets him every single time, pulls him in and drags him back. Bodhi's smile is like a supernova, impossibly bright and captivating, and he can feel the gravitational pull from it every time. In moments like those, when he's caught in the undeniable tug of Bodhi's smile, he knows, deep in his heart, he's never had control. He's never loved anyone with this much intensity and fascination and he's never lost control like this before. He's absolutely and utterly helpless and Bodhi is to blame.

That smile burns through him like a wildfire, reducing his resolve to ashes and his composure to char. As always, Bodhi is oblivious to this, unaware of how his quick flash of teeth and soft, bright laughter drags Cassian toward the teetering abyss. He kisses him and smiles and there's a very tiny dimple at the left corner of his mouth that Cassian feels he could dedicate the rest of his life to. He's so far down the rabbit hole now that he thinks he might as well invest in real estate.

He thinks he'd be happy to spiral and drift in a love like this, never touching down and never stopping. Gravity doesn't feel real and sometimes he wonders if it ever was; maybe it had always been an illusion. He feels weighted and weightless, caught between hovering and tethered, and then Bodhi is there and gravity is real again.

Bodhi takes his hand and it grounds him. Just like that the world is solid, composed of earth and rock instead of vapor and cumulous clouds. Bodhi is there; Bodhi is _always_ there. Sometimes Cassian has a hard time remembering a life before him and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt there isn't one after him; Bodhi is everything he's ever needed or wanted and everything he knows he could never do without. Bodhi is everything, stars and starlight and stardust, and what would Cassian Andor ever do without the stars?

Bodhi intertwines their fingers, his palm warm and smooth against Cassian's. He holds Cassian steady, anchoring him to world below with gentle, unwavering patience. When Cassian pulls him into his arms Bodhi goes willingly, fitting himself against his chest like he was always made to be there. Cassian holds him close and breathes in the scent of his skin and his hair, spice and electricity and rain. Bodhi is home, everything Cassian has ever wanted that to be, and he doesn't let him go.

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 **Thanks so much for reading guys! :D I know a lot has happened this week and without getting too political I just want to say that I hope you and your family and loved ones are safe. Please take care and know you are loved. I love you all with all my heart. 3**


	5. Shots Fired

**Jay-sus, sorry it's taken me so long to update this story guys! I've been stuck writing about bubonic plague iconography for the past two and half months so if anyone wants to know anything about medieval artistic representations of the plague, holla atcha girl. Anyway, I digress. This is basically just an excuse for some Bodhi!whump so I ran with it. Hope you all like it! :D**

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There's blood under his fingernails and dirt on his face. He's been staring at the same spot on the floor for about an hour now, the fingers of his left hand rhythmically curling and uncurling like they're closing around the grip of a pistol. He can hear voices down the hall, muffled through doors and walls, and he thinks he can make out a word or two every few seconds. It's hard to tell since he's confined to this hallway though.

It's his own fault, he knows that, but he's not exactly sorry. His adrenaline had been sky high for over an hour before they arrived and he'd been in a half-panicked daze by the time the medical team met their ship in the hangar. The medics were barking orders to each other in sharp, concise clips while Cassian watched helplessly as they loaded the pilot onto a gurney. They were moving quickly, maybe a little too quickly and one of them did something that made Bodhi whimper (he fucking _whimpered_ ) and Cassian's vision went red for a few seconds.

He doesn't lose his composure very often but when he does it's not pretty. That's why he's stuck out here until further notice. Apparently threatening to shoot a medic is grounds for banishment and he's left alone in the hall with nothing but silence and Bodhi's blood under his fingernails.

The worst part is that Bodhi wasn't even supposed to be with him on this mission, he was supposed to be halfway across the galaxy on an entirely different assignment. There had been some kind of last minute change the night before though, a scheduling conflict that put him back on the base just in time to be assigned as the pilot for Cassian's mission.

Cassian had argued fervently against Bodhi's assignment, insisting that there had to be someone else who could take over the role. It wasn't that Cassian was arguing against Bodhi (he was hands down the best pilot on the base) but the mission was going to be dangerous, practically a suicide mission, and honestly Cassian didn't want Bodhi anywhere near the planet they were going to.

They were traveling to Murrell V, a planet that was infamous for being a haven for every thief, murderer, and criminal this side of the Empire and the likelihood of them being ambushed and/or killed during their mission was astronomical. He wasn't keen on the idea of going there himself, let alone having Bodhi aboard the ship with him. He wanted to keep him as far away as possible, the other side of the galaxy if he had his way about it, but there was no getting around it. Bodhi was assigned as their pilot and that was that.

He had fretted about it the entire journey there, going through contingency plan after contingency plan in an effort to cover every foreseeable outcome. Regardless of what happened to him, regardless of how the mission went, he was absolutely determined to keep Bodhi out of harm's way. If it meant tearing their assailants apart with his bare hands to keep them away from the ship he would be happy to oblige.

They had landed in an empty field on the north side of a thick, fog-laden forest. There were no hangars or landing docks anywhere close by which was probably just as well since drawing attention to themselves would have been the absolute last thing they wanted to do. There were five other officers onboard with them and their mission was the same: get in, get out, get back.

The officers were armed and ready the second their ship touched the planet's surface and they all crowded to the back in silent but palpable excitement. They were well-trained and composed but the adrenaline of a mission never dulls. Cassian hung back briefly, making his way back to the front of the ship where Bodhi sat at the controls. There are so many things he wanted to say, so many things he needed to tell him, but he couldn't make himself say any of them.

Instead he tucked a pistol in Bodhi's hand and curled his fingers around it. Seeing the confusion on his face, Cassian just pulled him close, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and told him to stay on the ship. He wasn't sure if he sounded desperate or not, if the request sounded like a plea, but Bodhi nodded and gripped the gun tightly as Cassian turned on his heel and made his way to the back of the ship.

He spared one last glance over his shoulder, meeting the pilot's eyes briefly, and he felt something clench in his chest at all the things left unsaid between them. Then the door was opened and they were scrambling outside into a thick layer of cold, wet fog.

If he was being completely honest with himself, Cassian shouldn't have been surprised in the least that the mission turned to hell almost the second they were out of the ship. They were ambushed (which was expected) by close to twenty mercenaries (which seemed a bit excessive but was also expected). Two of the officers were killed almost instantly and a third was mortally wounded in the crossfire. Cassian and the remaining two officers found shelter behind a rocky outcrop a few yards away but there was no way they'd be able to make it back to the ship without getting killed in the process. Their options consisted of making a run for it and almost certainly getting shot or holding their positions and fighting back until they were overrun (which would probably only have taken a few minutes in all the confusion).

Cassian had swallowed thickly, resigning himself to his fate, and he was just about to make a run for it when he heard a dull, metallic grinding sound across the field. He turned and looked back just in time to see two small objects tossed out of the back of the ship, landing in the middle of the melee. There was a split second of silence before the grenades detonated and the world behind them erupted in a massive explosion of fire, dirt, and debris.

The explosions had been small and concentrated, not enough to cause widespread destruction but definitely enough to provide a distraction for them to get back to the ship. While the mercenaries lay scattered and bleeding across the field, Cassian and the remaining officers had taken off across the field toward the ship. For all their efforts, though, it hadn't been enough and they found themselves surrounded just outside the ship.

Everything had become a blur after that and Cassian didn't remember much except Bodhi shouting his name. He turned and saw him standing on the loading ramp at the back of the ship, motioning frantically for him to run. There were still too many mercenaries though and he knew he wouldn't be able to make it through them without being shot. He had the quick, sickening thought that Bodhi was going to watch him die a few feet away from safety.

But then something worse happened. Bodhi left the ship, gun in hand, and started firing at the men surrounding Cassian and the other officers. He took out two or three effortlessly before they realized what was happening and turned their attention toward him. Bodhi made it exactly six steps off the ship before he got shot.

The impact was powerful enough to make him stagger and he collapsed a split second later with his gun still in hand. In that moment Cassian couldn't react, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He heard himself shouting Bodhi's name and the deafening rush of blood in his ears and that was it.

He didn't know how they got back to the ship or who killed the remaining mercenaries or who took control and got them off the planet. All he was aware of was Bodhi in his arms and Bodhi's blood on his hands.

One of the officers had tried to help when they first got onboard, rushing forward when Cassian collapsed onto the floor of the ship with Bodhi still clutched against him. The captain hadn't meant to snap at him but he did, growling at the man to get back and not to touch the wounded pilot. The officer wisely obeyed, realizing that his assistance, however well-meaning, was not welcome at the moment.

Bodhi was still conscious when they reached the ship but he was delirious with pain and shock. He kept reaching for a gun that was no longer there, ready to fight off the enemies they left behind. Blood was pooling from the wound, staining his shirt and jacket and everything around them. It splattered across the metal floors and a long, glossy smear streaked across the side of the loading ramp. It was everywhere and it was terrifying.

Cassian kept one hand pressed over the gushing wound in Bodhi side, hoping that he could help stem some of the flow if he applied enough pressure. His other hand was squeezing Bodhi's, gripping the pilot's bony fingers and clinging to them like a lifeline. He pressed his lips against his temple, breathing an endless litany of his name and nonsensical prayers that devolved into nothing but pleas to hang on. The air felt thick and heavy with the smell of blood, sweat, and stripped ozone.

It had taken over over an hour for them to get back into Alliance-controlled space and it would be another hour before they made it back to Yavin. The contents of the onboard medical kit were strewn across the floor and Cassian utilized every bacta patch he could find in an effort to mend some of the damage. It worked a little but it was a temporary fix, nothing more; the wound was deep and the blood loss had been severe.

Bodhi remained fully conscious for the first hour, insisting to Cassian that he was fine even though both of them were covered in his blood. His insistence started to become fewer and farther between as they cleared the first hour, though, words slurring and voice growing weaker. He lost consciousness twenty minutes before they reached Yavin and Cassian quietly panicked for every second Bodhi didn't respond to him. By the time the medical team reached the ship, Bodhi was limp and Cassian was in a frenzy.

They had whisked him away to the medical wing after that and Cassian had been left in the hall. That was over an hour ago and there had been no word since the medical team and Bodhi disappeared behind closed doors. Not for the first time, Cassian thinks the worst. They were too late. _He_ was too late. Bodhi was dead and he never told him-

"Cassian," a voice says above him and it takes him several seconds to realize it's not in his head and that someone is actually speaking to him. He pulls his gaze up from the floor and meets Jyn's eyes.

She's standing a few feet away from him, hesitant and wary like she's not sure if she should be bothering him or not. She takes a small step forward, getting just a little bit closer. "Can I join you?"

The Captain feels himself nod, a quick, sort of jerky motion. He doesn't really feel like he's in control of his movements right now, more like a puppet whose strings are being controlled by someone else.

Jyn takes another step forward and takes a seat in the chair next to him. She watches him carefully for a moment, eyes stormy with concern. "I just spoke with one of the surgeons," she begins quietly but the silence of the hall makes her feel like she's shouting. "They said Bodhi's going to be fine. He came out of surgery a little while ago and they're going to be moving him to the recovery wing soon. I think Baze and Chirrut are on their way over there now."

Cassian feels like something heavy and oppressive lifts off his shoulders at her words and he hears himself exhale suddenly. It feels like the first time he's been able to breathe since Bodhi was shot. With her soft voice and quiet words, he had been fully expecting Jyn to break to news that their pilot had died on the operating table.

He reaches up and passes a hand over his face, suddenly feeling more drained and exhausted than he has in a long time. The events of the day bear down on him all at once and he feels like he's been waiting out in this hallway for days instead of hours.

"One of the officers told me what happened," Jyn continues, keeping her voice quiet. "It wasn't your fault, you know."

Cassian shakes his head briefly in disagreement. It _was_ his fault; Bodhi shouldn't have been there and he definitely shouldn't have been put in danger. There were so many things that shouldn't have happened but they did and Cassian blames himself for all of them. "He shouldn't have been there," is all he says and the words sound heavy and defeated when they come out.

"Maybe so," Jyn counters gently. "But he wasn't going to sit idly by and watch you and the others get killed either. I know you're upset but you have to understand that he made his decision all on his own. And if there's one thing you and Bodhi have in common it's that you're both hard-headed and stubborn."

He smiles faintly at this, just the barest quirk at the corner of his mouth. She had a point; Bodhi was one of the most stubborn people he'd ever met and it was one of the many reasons Cassian found himself falling for him.

"We should get you cleaned up before you go back there," Jyn says, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands gently while digging a pre-packaged damp cloth out of her pocket. She rips the package open with her teeth and tugs the cloth out, scrubbing it across Cassian's knuckles and under his fingernails. "I'm not letting you go see Bodhi while you're still covered in his blood."

He doesn't understand what she's talking about at first until he looks back down at his hands realizes that they are indeed ruddy with dried blood. There are splotches of it on his pants and his shirt and he didn't realize just how gruesome he looked until now.

"I should change," he mumbles absently, more to himself than Jyn. He starts to stand but hesitates before he steps away. He glances back down the hallway toward the closed doors of the medical wing, back where Bodhi is. Leaving now, leaving Bodhi behind...it just felt wrong.

"It's okay," Jyn tells him softly, following his gaze. She seems to understand his hesitation without him saying anything. "We'll sit with him until you get there, don't worry."

Cassian nods, immensely grateful for the reassurance. The thought of Bodhi waking up alone and bandaged in an empty recovery room made him feel like he'd been punched in the chest. "I won't be long," he tells her, hesitating for a second or so more before finally pulling himself away from the chair and making his way down the hall. Jyn nods and stands as well, turning in the opposite direction and disappearing behind the closed doors at the end of the hall, making her way to the recovery wing.

Cassian reaches his room a few minutes later and ducks inside, snagging a change of clothes from the cabinet and stripping out of the blood-stained ones he's wearing. He glares at the dark stains that cover his clothes as he pulls a fresh shirt over his head and vows to burn them later. It can wait though; all he's focused on right now is getting back to Bodhi in the recovery wing.

He steps into the bathroom and turns on the sink, scrubbing his hands beneath the faucet. Jyn had gotten most of the blood off his hands earlier but the water still swirled lightly pink when he rinsed them in the sink. He stares at it until the water swirls clear and every trace of Bodhi's blood slips down the drain. He feels oddly vindicated watching it disappear down the drain, like he's accomplished one small steps out of many.

He sighs, turns off the water, and steps out of the bathroom again. His clothes are still lying in a blood-stained heap on the floor and he purposefully ignores them as he steps out of the room. One less reminder, the better. The door slides closed behind him once he steps out into the hallway and turns back in the direction of the recovery wing.

 **OOOOO**

K-2 is standing outside the door when he arrives, acting as both lookout and bodyguard apparently. "You look terrible," the droid informs him helpfully when Cassian walks up, silvery eyes flickering over him briefly.

"Kind of you," Cassian snips back and yeah, it comes across a bit shorter than he meant it to but he's tired and stressed and he just really wants to see Bodhi.

K shrugs one shoulder loosely and steps to the side as the door slides open behind him. The others are already in the room, crowded around the bed, and Bodhi is in the middle and he looks so _small_. The whiteness of the sheets makes his skin look even more pale and gaunt and there are deep, bruise-dark circles beneath his closed eyes. His hair has been tucked back in a low ponytail and the darkness of it is a striking contrast to the stark white of the pillow underneath his head. Bodhi looks more vulnerable in this moment than he's ever looked before and Cassian hates it.

Jyn is sitting on one side of the bed and Chirrut is on the other, Baze standing behind him. The monk has the palm of his hand pressed flat against Bodhi's forehead and he's speaking to him in a soft, quiet voice. He looks up when Cassian enters the room and smiles. "Join us, Captain," he says, gesturing toward the bed. "We're keeping our young pilot company."

Cassian grabs an extra chair from next to the wall and pulls it up along the other side of the bed, sitting down next to Jyn. "Has he woken up at all?"

Baze shakes his head and glances down at the pilot. "Not yet, they said it might be a few more hours."

It's a little demoralizing but Cassian is grateful that Bodhi is alive at least. He knows it could have been much worse.

"The doctors said he's healing well," Jyn says, reaching out and squeezing Bodhi's hand gently. "They think he'll be able to be released in a few days so long as there are no complications."

"Probably for the best," Chirrut says with a small smile. "He's going to hate being confined to this bed."

Cassian smiles faintly at the comment and nods. "That he will."

They all sit in companionable silence for a while after that, content to just sit in the quiet stillness of the room. At some point, Baze leans over and says something to Chirrut, much too quiet for any of the others to hear, and the monk nods in response. He stands slowly, pausing to lean down and murmur another quiet prayer over their injured pilot, before allowing the assassin to lead him out of the room.

Jyn watches them go and shares some kind of unspoken conversation with Baze that lasts about three seconds before they step outside. She doesn't say anything but there's the barest hint of a nod and she stands as well, squeezing Bodhi's hand one more time and stepping away from the bed.

She places a hand on Cassian's shoulder and offers a comforting smile. "We'll be back to check on him in a little while. Keep him company while we're gone, hm?" She winks and steps out into the hall, following the other two and tapping K on the arm as she leaves. The droid looks down at his arm, looks up at Jyn, says nothing and follows her.

It occurs to Cassian a few seconds after they all leave that this had apparently been part of a grand scheme he was not privy to. Maybe they wanted to give him some privacy or maybe they had figured out he had feelings for their shy, jittery pilot before he did and were nudging him in the right direction. Either way, they've all bugged out and left him conveniently alone in the room with Bodhi.

He sighs softly and pulls his chair a little closer to the bed, reaching out slowly and touching Bodhi's hand. His skin is warm and dry, a dramatic change from the cool, clamminess he'd felt when they were rushing back to the base. He covers Bodhi's hand with his own and lays his other arm across the mattress, leaning down to rest his chin on top of it.

"You'll be the end of me, Bodhi Rook," he mutters, tracing his thumb across the back of the pilot's hand. The end of his sanity, the end of his rationality, the end of his loneliness; he's not exactly sure. "One way or another."

 **OOOOO**

He doesn't remember falling asleep but he remembers waking up because Bodhi's hand twitches and it snaps him back to awareness like a lightning bolt. He sits up quickly and sees the pilot smiling tiredly at him.

"Hey, you're awake," he says, voice croaky and thin from disuse.

Cassian almost laughs. "I could say the same for you."

"More or less," Bodhi says, gesturing slightly with his other hand. The one under Cassian's stays where it is. "We didn't get killed. That's encouraging."

Cassian's expression falters a bit. "You almost did."

Bodhi shrugs a little. "I've had worse."

"Doesn't matter," Cassian counters, expression darkening slightly. "You shouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Well, you shouldn't have gotten ambushed," the pilot says, giving him a wry smile.

"Bodhi, I'm serious," Cassian says in exasperation.

"So am I," Bodhi counters, meeting the Captain's gaze evenly. "I know you're blaming yourself for this and I'm telling you to knock it off. What would you have preferred I did? ' _Bodhi, stay on the ship and watch while I get slaughtered by a band of mercenaries_ '? That wasn't going to happen."

He moves his hand underneath Cassian's and manages to catch one of his fingers loosely. "I don't regret my decision or the fact that it saved your life. I do kind of regret getting shot because it is terribly uncomfortable but I'd do it all over if it meant keeping you safe." He winces just slightly and shifts to get more comfortable.

Upon seeing the frown still darkening Cassian's expression he sighs softly and levels him with a mild glare. "Be honest with me. If our situations had been reversed, would you have done any differently?"

The question catches Cassian off guard slightly. He wants to argue and protest against that logic but he can't. He knows for a fact he would gladly take a bullet if it meant keeping Bodhi safe and he can't deny it. So instead he just sighs, shakes his head, and squeezes Bodhi's hand. "No," he says finally, trying not to sound sulky about it. "I'd take on an entire firing squad if it kept you out of harm's way."

The pilot smirks a little at the response. "Good, glad we got that out of the way. Now can you stop acting like I'm hovering at death's door? It's depressing."

That earns him a small laugh from the Captain and a smile reserved only for him. "I think I can manage that."

Bodhi smiles and relaxes back against the pillow. He doesn't say anything about the fact that Cassian is still holding his hand and Cassian doesn't bring it up. They'll talk about it later when Bodhi's not laid up and healing in a hospital bed but for now they're both content to just keep it between them. When Bodhi falls back asleep a few minutes later, he links his fingers with Cassian's and relaxes against the mattress. Cassian smiles, presses a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles, and holds on tight.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading guys! :D**


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